Shoes

I love shoes! I can't help it!

They reflect the scents of the inner souls that reside in the soles of the feet that wear them.

Shoes give off the smell-image of people.

It's a dog thing.

I subscribe to the 'Imagist' school of poetry.

I would have made a good lap dog for an Imagist poet like Amy Lowell

who won a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926.

It was a posthumous prize. What a gyp.

Amy Lowell liked shoes too! She published a poem called "Red Slippers".

It is one of my faves.

I have an older sister named Lesley who lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.

Amy Lowell lived in Brookline too!

Amy Lowell was chubby, short, smart and rich.

I am chubby and short too!

Amy Lowell was well-read and self-taught. She was not allowed to attend college because her prominent family did not think it was proper for a woman. Two of her brothers prospered in college: one became a famous astronomer and one went on to become the president of Harvard. Gyp again, Amy!

I am not allowed to go to college either because I am a dog.

Amy Lowell lived in the narrow-minded culture of her time.

Mockery and ridicule came from fellow poets like Ezra Pound who referred to her as a "hippopoetess" My sister, LiLu, has called me a "chubba bubba" so I know how Ms. Lowell must have felt. Big laps are better for lap dogs, right Amy?

Amy Lowell smoked cigars constantly.

Another of my favorite Lowells is seen around Brookline with cigars today.

In 1925, Amy Lowell died at the tender age of 51.

She is buried at the Mount Auburn Cemetery, just outside Boston.

It is a beautiful place with rolling hills, lush landscape plantings of botanical gems, and meandering walking paths that weave through the resting places of the famous dead.

No one has come along to fill the shoes, or the slippers or the great lap of Amy Lowell.